In his present frame of mind it would have been useless pointing out to him that she had treated him no differently from other men.

He was a Pole, and he had caught fire where others would merely have glowed smoulderingly.
"Yes," he rejoined sullenly.

"I've finished." "So much the better." He regarded her speculatively.
"What are you made of, I wonder?
Does it mean nothing to you that a man has given you his very best--all that he has ?" She appeared to reflect a moment.
"I'm afraid it doesn't.

There's only one thing really means much to me--and that is my art.

And Lady Arabella," she added after a pause.
"She'll always mean a good deal." She sat down by the fire and held out her hands to its warmth.